


A new Low

by Kinkitup



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Chaptered, M/M, Masturbation, Narcissism, Rating: NC17, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinkitup/pseuds/Kinkitup
Summary: Taemin x KaiNC17Taemin is practicing late but his body is burning. It's been seven months since he's even touched himself.For a method to improve one's stamina it seems to have too much of a kickback.He breaks.





	1. A new Low

**Author's Note:**

> This is a product of my need to see Taemin completely helpless.

Again-  
Try again, try harder-this was not a chest pop, this was a sigh before sleep claims you for his own. You have to do this right, it’s the easiest part. If you can’t do this part, what do you expect to do with the rest of the choreo? Your start is weak. You are weak, you are failing. You will not lose, remember?

“If there’s anyone that remembers, it’s me, asshole” he grunts to himself, assuming position, falling to his knees. Rise, left hand, right hand – chest pop. Easy-peasy. But it’s not. It’s hard, so hard right now and his mind has short-circuited, the nerves won’t deliver the signals. His limbs are those of a puppet’s no longer attached to strings. He is sweating, breathing labored, teeth bare. His reflection in the mirror is not doing him any favors. Wild and disheveled, this is not what he is used to facing in this room. The music pulsates, through his eyes, down his throat, in his lungs, down to his feet. But the beat is not pushing him up, it’s nailing his knees to the ground.

“Fuck” he spits. His bangs are dripping sweat on his bloody lip, stinging. Great, he’s bitten himself bloody. What a fuckery. The taste of failure is salty; he thinks and takes a deep shaky breath. Because he is failing- nobody has seen it yet but he has been failing for weeks. Nobody knows he is being eaten from the inside, nobody knows it wasn’t work overload and it wasn’t loneliness that did him in. It was his own lust-crazed mind. He stands up, posture stiff and unyielding. He pulls the plug out of the stereo and the room goes silent. The storm outside is penetrating the walls. His cock is throbbing and there’s nothing on his mind that can justify it. He has devoted his life to dancing, he has moulded his needs to obey his dreams, but it seems this is going to be the year the cast will break.

“Lee Taemin, Wednesday, 23:16” he leans against the mirror, his breath clouding the glass .Opens his mouth, looks at his torn lip. “I am defeated.” It’s a mere whisper, but it sounds deafening. He pushes his right knee against the mirror, his left hand making an angry move towards his cock. The thought of rubbing himself is making his mouth water, just one hard stroke and then he’ll call it a night and head back home. The moment seems endless, he looks into the eyes of his reflection and he sees the shame, the need, the desperation in those fake blue orbs. He likes these contacts they got for him. They got them full of excitement, since they do not know-how could they-what hold his mind has on the throat of his career.

“And who defeated you, Lee Taemin?” the deep voice startles him. Nobody should have been in these rooms this late-not even he. Nobody should sound amused in that deep voice at 23:17 when he is horny enough to faint-especially not Kim Jongin. “Go away” he whispers and it is weak, desperate and disgusting. The floor creaks beneath large steps. Taemin hides his face in his hand, channeling his energy to the mirror, pushing against it with knees and elbows. “Taemin-huyng. What’s wrong?” he sounds concerned now, but concern will only bring him closer. To be realistic though, there is no way he can take to have the opposite outcome. Jongin is coming closer and closer and closer and this is an unchangeable fact.

Taemin suppresses a moan. He struggles to keep himself upright. This is the worst timing, this is the most dangerous turn this night could take. “Jongin, leave me be, please” he tries again but the boy is behind him and grabbing him by his arms and trying to pull him back, away from the mirror, but he must have been using all his body strength because he is still fighting this man who is certainly taller and more muscular and- “Let me go! Quit it, let me go!” He yells and Jongin freezes. The hands pulling him go rigid. Taemin knows he will have to face his friend in the mirror. And the thought alone is petrifying.

“What’s wrong with you?” the brunette boy whispers, understanding this is a very delicate situation.  
“Jonjin, this is a bad moment to talk. I’ll call you tomorrow- I” he takes a deep breath, barely suppressing a moan “I promise, Jongin. Tomorrow”. The heat should have left him. His body should have calmed down with all this shock, but this situation has only gotten him harder. His pants must be soaked in precum because his entire body is aflame but for the tip of his cock. The room goes silent for what seems like forever. Taemin’s heavy breathing is the only thing that reverberates through it.

“Are you not feeling well?” Jongin tries. “Want me to drive you home?” Taemin raises his head, looks at their reflections in the mirror. His frame is trapped under Jongin’s larger body and they make such a striking contrast- sweaty and breathless versus composed and perfect. “I’m okay, Jongin” he spits it. He is angry now. Angry that he is trapped, angry that he is disheveled and horny and most of all, angry that he was caught while being all that. The need to touch himself his escalating, his knees shake and Jongin’s hands move to his waist to support him. Taemin masters all his mental strength. This has to be solved now.

“For the sake of everything that you hold dear, take your hands off me, walk out the door and don’t wait up. I really mean it. I’m OK. I have to do something and I’ll go home. Just go. Silently. Don’t speak a word-go, Jongin” he looks at his friend’s eyes in the mirror, hoping he looks persuasive and hoping this will be the last thing he will have to say tonight. If this takes longer he will really be needing those arms for support. Jongin’s eyes wander from his friend’s eyes to his torn lip. His lips part to ask but he decides against it.  
“Tomorrow it is then. Send me a text when you get home”  
Taemin nods, relieved. He can do that. The arms are removed from his waist, sliding towards his hips, making him bury his head in his hand once more. He waits for the steps to vanish down the hall and then he allows himself to break.  
He slides down the mirror, tears his shirt open because he must escape the heat, one hand against the mirror for support and he is really going to jerk off right here, looking at this sweaty version of himself. Everything sways in and out of focus, his hand wraps around his dick and he pumps, unaware that the brunette has returned and this is not a private show.

“Narcissism, huh? A pretty fitting concept” he mumbles, spreading his knees and tightening his grip. His cock is leaking insanely. His eyes wander his form and something in his guts unravels and flutters. “Well, Lee Taemin, this is your lowest point”

Outside the room, Jongin tears his eyes away and presses his back against the wall, thinking that staying would hit a new low for him as well. Taemin’s broken moan ensures that. 

TBC


	2. Not in the Least

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is walking towards me, reaches the center of the room and stands tall. His erection is throbbing still, confined once more in dancing pants that are too tight. I can see and it’s killing me. He holds his chin up, looking down at my pathetic figure. He is worn out and maddened from lust and yet I am the pathetic one in this scene. How fitting-The great Lee Taemin-broken and yet better than all of us.

Kai’s POV

The truth is, I have spent many years infatuated with Lee Taemin. Perhaps it’s obvious, perhaps it’s not, even though I hope it’s the latter the truth remains the same-I have been obsessing over him for far too long.  
I think I’m sweating.

I keep my eyes tightly closed, back pressed against the wall, this thin wall that is not keeping him away effectively. I get the feeling he is one breath away. The feeling I am that fucking, cursed mirror he is clouding with his breathing. Trapped behind glass, unable to touch, the heat from his fingers and mouth pours through my skin, through my mind. Burns me to the core.

Taeminah, what the fuck has gotten into you tonight. Half a soul walks in on this now and we are done for. But then why can’t I up and leave? Why the fuck can’t I- a broken moan from him shutters all coherent thought. God, this sound is nothing like the Tae I’m used to. I can feel the frustration, the need. How many minutes has it been now? Ten? Twenty? I look at my watch – the answer is : less than three. Against all rational thought, I peer inside.

There he is, the boy that’s all sunshine, drowning in darkness. Thunder roars outside, the storm is not done with us yet. Scratch that. The storm is barely upon us. Lee Taemin is staring into his own eyes with a hatred I’ve never seen anywhere before, mixed with a passion I couldn’t have imagined anyone having- and then he licks the glass. Identical tongues sliding against each other, saliva pooling on the wooden floor, the muscles of his back tensing, his thighs pushing him up as he jerks himself off with a vulgar need.

I can’t believe this is real, this is actually happening. Perhaps it’s not. Perhaps I will soon wake up drenched in sweat, with the most urgent hard-on I have ever faced. Perhaps-

“Kim Jongin” a voice grabs me by the shoulders and shakes. In panic I realize I have been staring for far too long-staring through a fucking mirror. “If you can see me, I can see you. Pretty basic stuff, don’t you think?” his voice is breathless, and yet reaches deep into my gut and twists. I meet his eyes and I am pinned to the floor. His gaze holds a thousand storms like the one raging outside. “Fuck” I spit, not breaking eye contact. As if I could-his presence is commanding like always. “Damn right,” Taemin grunts, sweat dripping down his hair. He has stopped his hand and is now using it to support himself. He is trying to straighten his posture but his hand is shaking, glistening with precum. To my mortification, I can notice every detail of this scene effortlessly. “I put a lot of effort in asking you to leave me alone. Why do you waste it.” He is not really asking, I don’t think he can process an answer anyway. And neither can I provide one.

“I’m really sorry, Taeminah” I try but I think I’m burning by now. Darkness falls on me as well, like thick, velvet drapes at the end of a play.  
“No, “he shakes his head, staring at the floor. “no I don’t think you are” his hand twists, index finger pointed at the floor, drawing half a circle towards me. When Lee Taemin’s fingers dance, you have all the attention you can get. His lips part, torn and perfect. “I think you stayed because you knew I was going to break.” He stands up, shoulders loose, his posture always mesmerizing. I am lost to this, still knelt by this door.  
“Now the question is, why did you want to see this?” he is walking towards me, reaches the center of the room and stands tall. His erection is throbbing still, confined once more in dancing pants that are too tight. I can see and it’s killing me. He holds his chin up, looking down at my pathetic figure. He is worn out and maddened from lust and yet I am the pathetic one in this scene. How fitting-The great Lee Taemin-broken and yet better than all of us.

“Do you feel better now, Kim Jongin?” he spits. “Is your confidence level higher now?” I shake my head, and take my chances with a smile.”Taeminah-this is all so weird. Let’s just forget it ever-”  
“Don’t smile. It infuriates me.” He yells, interrupting me half-sentence . His features stretch and morph into those of a feline predator, his long, blonde hair framing that gorgeous face. My own features obey him. I look him straight in the eyes and hold his gaze. To my surprise he only lasts a few seconds, exhales through his nose, his muscles tense and a shiver runs through him. He is too horny for this. He overestimated his mentality. Moments pass in absolute silence.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him, but my voice betrays my amusement. The edges of his lips twitch in annoyance but he can’t do shit about it. I stand up, he makes a shaky step backwards. “What’s wrong, Lee Taemin? Can’t you hold your own weight?” I usually don’t talk like this to him-ever. But something inside me that was hibernating is waking up, hungry for this. He is at my mercy. He has fumbled with control and lost it. I want to see if he can fight this, because if he can’t, we might as well screw it all up.

“Shut up” he spits, but it’s more like a plea and he is shaking harder, trying to remain standing and walk back at the same time. I advance my step until we are one position away, facing each other. His eyes are hidden behind blond bangs, hiis hands clenched in fists. “Go away” he growls, his voice coming from deep in his gut. Our eyes meet but his are hazy.

“How did this happen to you, huh? Always so composed and now you are trembling with need” I whisper.  
“Not jerking off was helping my stamina” he says and I can sense embarrassment. So this is the price he paid for this inhuman performance.  
“Was?”  
“Well it obviously isn’t helping anymore”  
“How long?” I ask, my eyes resting on the veins of his neck. I’m lured to him.  
“Seven months”  
My eyes go wide. We’ve all done things for our performance but this is beyond my reason.  
“Are you fucking insane?”  
“No. I am motivated” he speaks back, angered  
“You are not the only one!” I seethe.  
“Yeah, you couldn’t go two days without wanking to save your life”

I grab him by the waist and I’m pushing him back, my forearm pressed against his neck until his back hits the mirror. He is trying to push my hand away from his throat but my entire body is on him, our thighs rub together and our erections slide against each other and suddenly his eyes are wide and staring into mine. A tormented moan escapes him from sealed lips. “See?” he speaks, “not even to save your life”. He tries to look composed but he’s not feeling it. Sweat is forming on his forehead and the proximity is killing me. Our lips are so close, our breaths are mixing and he smells of mint and desperation.

“I’m not going to do this with you, Kim Jongin. I may be horny as hell but I am not insane”

My hands move to his shoulders and I am removing his shirt, leaving him exposed. He does not make a move to stop me. I move closer, almost touching his lower lip with mine, his breath hitches and his head tilts. “You are not making a point here” I whisper, lost in the moment, head buzzing. He rubs our concealed erections once more, putting more pressure and it is my turn to groan. “we are not going to touch in any way we haven’t touched up until now.” He speaks steadily, letting it sink in. “Now turn around, Jongin. Turn around and leave me be.”  
Our lips dance around, we’re changing sides, it’s as if we are locked together in this passionate kiss and yet we are not, he is not allowing it and I just can’t up and claim it. Why can’t I-  
“Then break the seven months strike. It’s okay, I won’t touch. I just want to see you do it”  
“See me do it? Do I jerk off so well?” he grins, rubs against my cock once more.  
“One more of these and I won’t be true to my word” I groan back.  
“Instruct me then” he breathes and I shudder. The thought alone is making me weak in the knees.  
“Turn around, continue what I interrupted. Act as if I’m not here.”  
“But I kinda enjoy you being here, Jongin.”  
“Don’t”  
“Yeah, okay” he turns around, prompts his left palm against the mirror, takes his cock out. Dear lord I’ve never before seen a dick in this context. Why can’t I stop looking. He does nothing and I look up to see why. I’m met with light blue orbs and a wide grin. “You like it too much, don’t you think?” I clench my teeth because it’s true. “Thought about it before tonight, then?” his hand starts stroking. I watch through the mirror, the angry red head of his dick oozing precum, his bicep clenching. His perfect hand. I do not answer.  
“Oh you have thought about it before. Was it me? Someone else?” I don’t know what gives me away. “Oh, it was me” He moans, throws his neck back to rest on my shoulder. “Then this must be killing you” of course it’s fucking killing me.  
“Finish yourself” I spit because he is playing me like a fool. The tables are turning too fast for my liking.  
“You’re saying that as if this is not my goal”  
“Faster, Taemin”  
“Ah you are too demanding, you know” He’s back to looking at himself in the mirror and his gaze clouds over once more.  
“Milk yourself dry, Taeminah” I breathe and I think it’s the dirtied thing I’ve said aloud. He moans, the hand on his dick moves faster, pumping, his head falls, his knees shake and he slides down the mirror and on his knees.  
I stand towering over him as he groans and moans and thrusts into his hand, his pelvis moving in the magical way it always does and warm spunk shoots from his dick and smears the mirror. He stands there, sweaty and breathless, his cock still hard as if it does not grasp the concept of release. As he looks up with those spent eyes all I can think is: this is a stain I can never remove.

“Happy now?” he asks. 

No, I think to myself. Not in the least.


End file.
